Linger
by elle.writes
Summary: Bruce was incredulous. It wasn't like he was somehow unaware of Tony's egomania but this – this was on a whole 'nother level. It was ridiculous – no. It was insane. Did he actually think that he was so great that the only thing that he could offer someone that was better than him was two of him?


Title: Linger

Author: ELLE

Pairings/Warnings: Stark/Banner/Stark, gratuitous smut, mild language, angst, a serious abuse of technology

* * *

Birthdays were nothing Bruce paid much attention to – especially his own. He understood that other people – normal people – found such a day worth celebrating and would make an effort for them, but he wouldn't even have realized today was his own except for the stupid little form e-mail he'd received from S.H.I.E.L.D. "celebrating" it. He certainly didn't expect any of his team to give a shit – they all had other, more pressing matters to deal with – and therefore he didn't think anything of it when Tony invited him over for dinner.

Well. That wasn't entirely true. He did think being thrown some birthday sex wouldn't be a particularly bad way to end the night. It certainly wasn't something he typically indulged in, but Tony... Everything with Tony was never what he expected. He was brilliant, sure, and that attracted Bruce to him as a person – but Tony was also charismatic, lavish, larger-than-life. Tony had a way about him that made you lose yourself in him, in his version of reality, in his world, so to speak – and that was dangerous for Bruce.

The first time he hardly knew what was happening until it was over and he was watching Tony's naked ass as he smoked a cigarette off the balcony. And it didn't really matter because they rarely saw each other and when they did more important shit needed to be done but still. The temptation lingered, just under the surface, whether he wanted it to or not. It was too late. He was trapped in Tony's web.

But after dinner, Tony wanted him to go down to the lab. Not that Bruce particularly minded – he could easily talk shop all night with Tony and be satisfied. He'd met some smart people in his day, but not like Tony. There was almost nothing he had to explain to him, nothing he couldn't expound upon or immediately see the consequences of. But still – there was a vague feeling of disappointment in his gut that Tony seemed more anxious to show him whatever new weaponry he'd devised than the good time Bruce had hoped for.

Still, he followed Tony through his lavish palace of a home, the little boy in him unable to deny his awe that someone like Tony was an associate of his now, that he was welcomed into a place like this. But he tried to focus on what Tony was saying – though as they entered the lab and Bruce cataloged how it had been rearranged, his ability to pay attention was derailed by the gigantic four-poster bed set off to the side now despite Tony completely ignoring it.

"You rearranged," Bruce opened with a rare smile as Tony walked over to the computer projection screens to show him whatever it was he wanted to show him.

"Oh. That." Tony didn't even spare a glance. At least he wasn't so out of touch with reality as to have to question what it was Bruce was referring too. "Pepper is always giving me shit about needing more sleep. I thought the couch was fine."

Bruce hummed as he stared at it – it did look like something she was more likely to have decorated than him. Huge fluffy white duvet, large oversized fluffy white pillows. It didn't speak much to Tony's personal style at all, though Bruce found it rather nice.

"And you actually sleep in that thi..." Bruce started but trailed off as he turned to look at Tony and saw, well... another Tony.

"No, the couch is much better," Tony answered anyway. "Though that has it's uses too."

But Bruce wasn't really paying any attention to what Tony was saying now as he walked up to the duplicate version, appraising the perfect copy with an unguarded amount of amazement. It was like an identical twin, maybe even more similar. The way the eyes crinkled at the corner, the curve of his lips, the shade of his skin. He'd thought this technology was fifteen years away and yet, now, right here before him...

"Can I touch it?" Bruce asked, looking back over his shoulder at Tony.

"Sure." Tony laughed. "In fact, I encourage you to."

Bruce turned back to the copycat and reached out and touched it's cheek. It flinched, causing him to flinch and take a step back. He wasn't expecting that.

Tony laughed again as Bruce looked between them with an uneasy smile. "It's been programmed already – maybe 75% complete. No speech though – that's presenting a bit of a problem but you know – infliction is hard to mirror."

"This polymer," Bruce mused as he stared at the skin, reaching instead for it's hand this time and trying not to be creeped out when it reached back. "It feels so real."

"My tech, baby," Tony said, tapping his chest with pride. "Nothing like it will exist on the market for at least ten years. The most expensive thing I've produced to date."

The copycat squeezed his hand and smiled at him, feeling warm and human. Bruce could see it's chest rise and fall, the glow from the power-generated heart shining through the thin white t-shirt it wore.

"This is amazing," Bruce murmured as their hands fell apart.

"Obviously you have to keep this under wraps – no one else knows about it," Tony said as Bruce stared into its eyes, barely registering what he was saying. The implications of this singular piece of technology... "What's the point of a body double if everyone knows about it, capiche?"

"You paranoid sonuvabitch," Bruce replied with a laugh. "You _egotistical_ paranoid sonuvabitch," he corrected, glancing over at Tony as he approached. "You just had to show it off to somebody."

Tony threw a casual arm over his shoulder and grinned a grin that Bruce had learned to be wary of. "Nah – I want you to help me test it."

Bruce blinked, his confusion obvious. "Test it?"

What was there to test? If it didn't speak yet, were they supposed to sit down and have dinner with it? They already ate. It seemed to react well enough to human contact, but...

"It's your birthday, right?" Tony asked and Bruce's brows narrowed.

"How did you – ?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. database. Numbers are my thing," he answered, tapping his temple. "And what could possibly be a better birthday gift than two of me?"

Tony wiggled his eyebrows and as realization dawned on Bruce he slowly shook his head, unsure whether he should just walk out right then or not.

"The most expensive tech you've ever produced and you want to turn it into a glorified sex doll?"

Bruce was incredulous. His mind reeled and he struggled to quickly regain control of his spiraling emotions. What a fucking _narcissist_. It wasn't like he was somehow unaware of Tony's egomania but this – this was on a whole 'nother level. It was ridiculous – no. It was _insane_. What the fuck? Did he actually think that he was so fucking great that the only thing that he could offer someone that was better than him was two of him?

Tony shrugged, his arm dropping from around Bruce's shoulders and he ran the back of his fingers down the copycat's cheek. There was something strangely erotic about that simple action – though Bruce was loath to admit it. Instead, he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, watching as Tony went to get a drink. He swallowed hard. There was no point in even considering the temptation of alcohol. He knew he should just walk out right now. This was too much. If Tony offered him a drink, he'd just walk right out the door. If Tony –

But Tony just turned around and tilted the glass back into his mouth then looked over at him with invitation clearly written all over his face. It was infuriating. Tony really thought he'd just capitulate to this ridiculous scenario that easily? Maybe he _had_ wanted something, but not like this.

"Don't be like that," Tony admonished, walking back over to him with a little pout on his face.

Bruce clenched his teeth. This was infuriating, it was crazy. But he wasn't walking away. Why the hell wasn't he –

Tony put a hand on his cheek so that his thumb rested right beneath his lower lip, stroking across the underside of it with one gentle swipe.

"I just want to show you a good time."

And that was it. Bruce capitulated.

He wasn't sure if Tony knew. Probably the manipulative bastard did – he was sure Tony had read all of their files – but he prefered not to think about it like that. He prefered to think, that with all Tony's conquests, he was different because he never asked, never wanted anything from Tony or took him for granted. Because he didn't care about the money or the power, the way most of the men and women Tony slept with did – all Bruce wanted was a good time. It was the only thing he ever wanted – a friend, a little fun... And Tony offered him that with open arms from the moment they'd met. Maybe he had a damn strange way of showing it, but who was he to criticize someone for their lack of normality?

Bruce returned token resistance when Tony kissed him, still not thrilled with the whole idea of a ménage à trois with a look-a-like android but he hoped maybe Tony just wouldn't push the issue if he didn't say anything. But as always his kiss was warm and open and Bruce's defenses quickly fell away.

He could taste the expensive whiskey on Tony's lips and it turned him on way more than it should've. Though he swore off alcohol, he still wanted it, craved it, and Tony knew that – he could feel him smiling into the kiss, his hand sliding around to the back of his head, fingers twisting into his hair a little too tight.

There were a lot of reasons Bruce came back to fuck around with Tony again and again and one if the big ones was that Tony understood him better than anyone else, knew the duality that was his nature. Bruce couldn't accept pleasure without pain and Tony was more than willing to oblige.

Teeth sunk into his lower lip for a moment before Tony jerked his head back by his hair, his lips traveling down his chin to his neck in a trail of bites that ended at his collar bone. Although his other hand still held a tumbler of whiskey, one finger slid down the neck of Bruce's shirt to the second button, still buttoned, Tony's feather-light touch making him shiver.

The smell of the whiskey was almost more than he could bear but and he bit down on his lower lip to control himself, clenching his fists, remembering what a trigger it was and needing to maintain control. Sometimes he hated the way Tony made him feel – like he barely had a grasp on reality. But usually, although he didn't want to admit it, he liked it.

Tony stopped and pulled away, releasing his hair and looking into Bruce's eyes for a moment as he swallowed the rest of the whiskey and reached back to discard his glass. There was a moment of recognition and Bruce knew – he could trust Tony. Tony never pushed him too far, never let him reach that edge, gave him just enough of what he wanted to be satisfied.

When their lips reconnected he was significantly less guarded. He let himself enjoy the taste of the alcohol, the warmth of Tony's mouth, the feeling of his heavy hands on his belt as he dragged their hips together. Maybe he was just another score for Tony but Tony never made him feel that way. He always took it slow, always made it linger.

It became quickly apparent that Tony was moving him in the direction of the ostentatious bed – with every grind of his hips a forward step, his kiss forceful and pushing backward. Truthfully, there was something more appealing about that damn couch of Tony's, but he guessed, if there was a bed might as well –

"Wait," Bruce interrupted, drawing away from his mouth a bit reluctantly.

The expectant, puppy-dog look on Tony's face was almost worth it though. He hated to be denied anything he wanted and Bruce wanted to be wanted by him.

"What's the real reason this bed is down here?"

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes, tugging at Bruce's belt strap and pulling the end out of his pants' loops.

"Pepper really thought I ought to get more 'real' sleep." Tony sighed. "How many people do you think I bring down here to the lab? Seriously?"

He supposed it was probably just him and Pepper, and that did make him feel a little better, though he couldn't exactly place why it should. It's not like he had any desire to be an exclusive thing with Tony – not even Pepper could tie him into monogamy so what chance did he have? But still – as dumb as it sounded, even in his own head, Bruce wanted to feel... special. It was... complicated.

Instead of pressing the issue, Bruce reinitiated the kiss, ran his hands down Tony's back and up under his shirt, feeling the smoothness of his skin, the musculature of his sides, the curve of his back and how it dipped in towards the center. It was becoming familiar, but that didn't make it any less wonderful.

Tony jerked out his belt, letting it fall to the floor, and instead of fighting it Bruce helped draw him back towards the bed. He felt his shirt slip from his pants, felt his abs constrict as Tony's fingers slid across them, right near the pant's line, right where he was most sensitive. Bruce couldn't help but gasp a little and Tony's lips curved over his own, pleased with himself – as always.

As the reached the bed, Tony called out for atmosphere and the lights dimmed, computer screens turned off, music started playing. Bruce laughed at the piano concerto as he fell back into the bed, body sinking in the soft linens. It was a selection very atypical of Tony.

"You don't like it?" Tony smiled down at him but it seemed suddenly self-conscious and there was a hint of uncertainty under the lightness of his question.

"You know I do," Bruce replied as Tony settled down on top of him, knees resting on either side of his hips.

"Good," Tony breathed as he leaned down to kiss him, fingers working down the buttons on his shirt.

Bruce only interrupted him to slide Tony's shirt over his head, the glow of the reactor in his chest seeming brighter in the dim room. It was fascinating to him on an intellectual level and terrifying to him on a personal one. He knew all the implications and although he wanted to, he never dared touch it. But he let his fingers skirt around it and then forced himself to forget about it as Tony leaned down again, dragging his lips across his chest.

He inhaled sharply, head falling back into the pillows as Tony's teeth met the sensitive flesh of his hips, his hands working down his pants. Despite what he'd initially assumed about him, Tony's playboy nature came from his thorough enjoyment of sex rather than insecurity or a desire for a large number of notches in his belt. Because of that, he was a very attentive lover.

Bruce ran a hand through Tony's dark hair, staring down at him across the planes of his own body as he nipped his thighs, buried his against his cock, teased at it with his tongue and lips, making Bruce sigh. It was problematic that Tony was so good at this – making him feel good. He'd never in his life felt the way he felt with Tony.

He fisted Tony's hair in his hand and drug his head away in spite of himself, Tony smiling down at him with amusement. Bruce returned a half grin and shoved him away to kick out of his pants. Tony was sitting back on his knees and Bruce joined him, pulling him up to meet him by his belt and kissing him, fumbling with his belt buckle, his zipper.

Tony helped him slide his pants down his hips then grabbed his ass and pulled him close, their bodies colliding, gasping as their hips met. The throaty little chuckle Tony made as he ground their hips together made Bruce's stomach twist but he was helpless to the heat, the overwhelming sensation of Tony's dick against his. He kissed sloppily at Tony's neck, fingers burying themselves in his back as he clung to him in an attempt to stay upright. Just like everything in his life, Tony was a storm he had to fight to hold on to.

Eventually, though, Tony forced them to separate, running his hands up his body, cradling the back of his neck as he kissed him thoroughly. And then he was shrugging out of his pants and accepting lube from his body double and again Bruce was feeling incredibly skeptical about this entire experience. He didn't even want to guess how that thing was programmed to know when Tony needed lube.

"I don't –"

"Shh," Tony cut off his protest, pressing up behind him, placing a hand over his mouth as their torsos aligned, his dick pressing hard and hot between his legs. "Close your eyes."

Bruce looked at the Tony in front of him – smiling and looking altogether too eager considering he wasn't even human and as far as Bruce knew couldn't really feel pleasure – and then he looked back at the actual Tony behind him as best he could, letting his skepticism be known with a hard look in lieu of his ability to voice it. But Tony's mouth found his ear, sending a shiver coursing down Bruce's spine, and he whispered –

"Come on. For me?"

Bruce's jaw was clenched hard as he glanced back at the other Tony. At least he was still wearing clothes so he could tell them apart – and at least he couldn't talk. He felt Tony's hand run down his body, teasing a nipple on the way down, making his abs tighten as it came to rest on his hip, fingers digging in. Rolling his eyes before he closed them, Bruce snorted out a sigh and nipped at Tony's fingers to get him to remove his hand from his mouth. Tony lavished bites and kisses on the back of his neck as a reward, though Bruce still felt unsure.

And then it was almost way, way too much all at once. He felt hands all over his body – stroking his face, his chest, his thighs, his back. He felt Tony's mouth on his shoulder blades as he was being kissed and – and it was surprisingly okay. Bruce cracked his eyes open to see the duplicate and honestly? It was just like kissing Tony – it kissed the same way, looked exactly the same, felt... human. And so he closed his eyes again and surrendered himself to Tony's will.

It felt phenomenal. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He found himself balling his fists in the copycat's shirt, kissing it with a ferocity that surprised him as he fell into the sensation of Tony fingering him. Bruce had never thought that was something he wanted until that moment, to be able to kiss Tony like this as he prepped him, but now that he had he wanted it like nothing he'd ever wanted before. And the duplicate helped hold him up as his knees felt weak, wrapped it's arms around him and they were Tony's arms holding him and Tony's hand digging into his hip and Tony's fingers inside of him and Tony was everywhere all at once.

Bruce could feel Tony's forehead on his shoulder as he positioned himself and Bruce reached back and buried his fingers in Tony's hair as the other Tony's mouth worked at his jaw and up under his neck, slipping down his skin to a nipple, tongue stroking at it just as Tony's would.

"Fuck," he groaned as Tony slid in, slowly, savoring every moment.

And Tony panted in his ear, murmuring how good he felt with every inch, drawing back a little when it verged on uncomfortable and giving Bruce a moment to adjust. Bruce focused on Tony's voice, his breathing, on his fingers bruising his hips, his dick filling him, on the mouth worshipping his chest, the hand sliding up between his thighs.

"Fuck," he whispered, every nerve ending in his body burning, every electrical impulse on fire, arcing through him until he didn't think he could withstand any more. His hold on reality was already so tenuous, to flirt with that disaster the way he was now... It made him rock hard. It made him dangerous.

But Tony had never been afraid of the danger.

Bruce let himself hang on to Tony's double as he was fucked from behind, each slow and steady smack where their bodies collided seemed to reverberate through the room and through his own body. The hand between his thighs had fondled his balls, came up to his dick and stroked it, but it was entirely too slow, too steady – perfectly in time with the motion of Tony's hips as they slid into him, over and over, the rhythm maddening.

He no longer felt it necessary to keep his eyes closed but they weren't exactly open either as he kissed Tony's elaborate machine, barely able to tell where one of them started and the other began anymore.

"God," Tony moaned behind him, quietly, like it took all his concentration and Bruce almost missed it. "Fuck yeah."

And then Bruce realized – it was like watching a mirror image for Tony... and he was getting off on it. Far from being irritated, Bruce redoubled his efforts, kissing across his face, running his hands through his hair and down his neck, drowning his double in the affection he wanted to give Tony if only they were face to face.

"Christ," Tony muttered, obviously realizing what he was doing and Bruce grinned.

"Shh," he mimicked, looking over his shoulder at Tony, sweat soaked skin gleaming in the dim light.

Tony barked a rough laugh and his next thrust was hard, throwing Bruce off balance but he laughed too, flighty from being out of breath. He tousled Bruce's hair for a second, a momentary affectionate gesture, but then Tony wasn't playing any more and he left Bruce clutching for the other him or else be drowned beneath his current.

Each thrust now was quick and powerful, one of Tony's hands twisted in his hair, the other remaining on his hip to steady himself. Bruce reached down to the hand on his dick, placing his own hand over it, encouraging it to move faster. He physically ached, physically needed to find release and he wanted to feel himself come.

And Tony demanded it, leaning forward as he pulled him back by his hair so their bodies were flush, panting the command in his ear.

"Come." Tony's mouth was hot and wet on Bruce's cheek as his duplicate moved in to bite at his neck, the speed of the hand on his dick increasing. "Wanna – feel it."

That was all he needed.

There was always a moment right before orgasm where he felt like he was losing control – because it was a loss of control. But for Bruce, to lose control was to cause pain, suffering, and his whole body tensed in anticipation of that terrible transformation. He clutched at Tony's shirt, desperate to hold on to something, something to ground him in this reality, to remind him to stay here and then –

And then pleasure washed through his body like a torrent ripping through him and he gasped, unable to breathe, always so surprised to feel so... so damn _good_ instead of so empty, so full of rage.

Tony's rhythm fell apart in his last few moments, Bruce's name mumbled from his lips with a curse, filling him with a different kind of pleasure – a softer kind of pleasure that lingered longer in his bones as they separated and fell onto the bed together.

They didn't really snuggle – the few nights Bruce stayed over he learned that Tony seemed to habitually avoid beds in general and slept at his desk or on a settee for maybe three hours, tops. But Tony propped himself up on his arm and stared down at him a minute, making him feel entirely too raw and exposed after what they'd done.

Searching for a way out, Bruce's eyes darted to the body double, now ineffectively standing off to the side, shirt covered in his cum, making him feel even more awkward than he already did.

"Can you...?"

Tony laughed and shooed the machine away, it complying willingly, leaving them alone – or well... Bruce didn't know. He decided it was better not to think too hard about it.

"You can stay here," Tony offered, running a hand back through his hair.

It was difficult for Bruce, watching his muscles flex, post-coital high still humming in his veins, knowing he was more attached to Tony then Tony was too him. Every time they did this just made it worse... but how could he say no?

Tony leaned in to kiss him one last time, slowly, savoring the moment, crushing Bruce as he tried to reign in his wildly vacillating emotions and feel nothing at all. He wasn't meant to feel this way. He was never supposed to fall in love.

Because then Tony was up, sliding on his boxers, moving to the liquor cabinet to make himself another whiskey. And Bruce watched, not sure whether he was actually going to stay or not. Sometimes the loneliness he experienced in Tony's presence was far worse than actually being alone.

"Hey," Tony said over his shoulder, glancing at him for just a moment before he turned back to his glass. "Happy birthday."

And Bruce decided that maybe, for tonight anyway, he would stay.


End file.
